We see it often, these days. People gathered around long tables and over meals that are so spectacular you could weep. The gold fork. The simple plating of citrus and rosemary. The fall of linen, the shine of light.
Sometimes we gather like this just for beauty, and that is enough. But sometimes we gather and suddenly there’s more. It’s in the way she laughs without inhibition. It’s the story he tells about his brother. It’s the revelation she admits before saying goodnight about how unfamiliar it feels to be around people who care about her for no other reason than because she is her.
And you walk away from a night like that, fork forgotten.